The battle of Aornos 1
by nogthenog
Summary: Slioch and Alexander attempt to take the mountain stronghold of Aornos


I was saying my goodbye's to Anahita at Bactra. It was to be our main base for the campaign this summer against the last of the resistance in these high hills. We'd had two years of tough fighting in these remote, hostile hills. The tribes up here were hard, uncompromising people.

It felt like we'd been in a constant battle ever since we set foot in these hills. But, finally, we seemed to be wearing the mountain tribes down. Resistance was dying out in the north and the west, and now we were moving east to finish the job off.

Alexander had sent me back to Bactra to pick up some craftsmen, especially carpenters. We'd had to take city after city with siege engines. Alexander wanted to build more engines, more quickly to finish subduing the rebellious tribes before moving further east to India.

Truth be told, I was glad to be away from the sieges. I was getting tired of the slaughter.

Any resistance by any city was met with overwhelming force. Then, following the fall of the city, it was the same every time – slaughter all the men, enslave all the women and children.

That was the Macedonian way.

It wasn't what we did back home. When we stormed another tribe's fort, we killed a few warriors and then made the rest part of our tribe. That way we got a bigger tribe and more territory.

It seemed to work, which was more than you could say for the Macedonian, or should I say Alexander's, way. It was supposed to terrify cities into submission without the need for a costly siege. But these belligerent mountain people just didn't care. They were going to fight for their city no matter what.

Oxyartes and Roxanna walked into view, arm in arm.

"Slioch!" hailed Oxyartes, a smile on his face. He was always cheerful and full of energy. I could see where his daughters got their spirit from.

"What is this!" he exclaimed cheerfully. "My dearest Anahita in tears?"

He was right. She was wiping a tear from her eye as we said our parting farewells.

Oxyartes wagged an admonishing finger at me. "You promised me not to hurt her."

I grinned. "Yes sire, I did. It's not likely to happen as I've only got a small cock and her arsehole is as wide as a bear's yawn!"

Oxyartes roared with laughter and slapped his thigh.

It was a joke often told between groom and father in law at our wedding feasts back home, usually late in the night after much ale had been consumed.

I'd used it at my own wedding. Oxyartes had loved it and liked to use every opportunity to hear it again. It was our little running banter.

Anahita punched me on the shoulder and, giggling, told me off for making rude comments about her arse.

Before I could say that any fool could see that, even through her fine tunic, she had a backside as firm, ripe and pert as two apples, Roxanna said something to her sister. She spoke quickly and in Sogdian.

Sogdian was a difficult language. In the entire Greek army, only Pharnuces spoke it – and he was a Persian who grew up around here.

Anahita was slowly teaching me Sogdian and I had a smattering of it, but I wasn't about to tell anyone.

I caught enough of Roxanna's words to understand that she'd said something about the size of my cock compared to Alexander's.

Anahita blushed a deep crimson and hushed her sister. She glanced at me and gave me an embarrassed smile. I gave her a self-satisfied smile back – I knew my cock was much bigger than his and the sisters had obviously been comparing notes on their new husbands.

I forced marched the reinforcements eastwards just as fast as they could go. I was under strict orders from Alexander to catch up the main army as soon as I could.

I was at the head of a column of weary artisans, strung out along the floor of a wide valley. The valley had a mighty river in it. The locals called it the Indus.

The river raced southwards, towards only Poeninus knew where, swollen by the water from the melting Spring snows that still capped the high peaks to the north.

And that was where we were heading. North – to the high peaks, the snow and more battles.

"Slioch! Sire!"

It was Leonidas, commander of the carpenters. He approached me at speed, breathless from his exertions.

"The men are tired. They need rest."

I gave him a withering look. "We're nearly there now, not much further. Tell them to keep going"

He shook his head. "You've been saying that for the last three days. We have to rest."

We crested a small rise in track and there in front of us in the distance, we could see the smoke from the fires of the huge camp of the army.

I snorted. "See! I told you."

I'd always been a lucky fucker. I'd no idea where Alexander and the army where. We were just following their trail as fast as week could and I knew we'd catch up with them at some point.

Leonidas waved his men forward, and at the sight of the smoke ahead, their faces brightened and they began to move forward again.

For me the column moved with agonising slowness and it too far too long for my liking to reach the camp. As we got closer and closer, I could see the camp was at the foot of a gigantic rock wall that rose straight up out of the valley floor into the thin cold air.

Above the rock wall was a flat plateaux. The rock wall ran the length of the head of the valley. I couldn't see any break where you could climb and along to the plateaux.

If that wasn't bad enough, the rock wall was crowned by massive fortifications. It looked impregnable. It was massively bigger than the Sogdian Rock.

So this was Aornos.

The fortress where all the refugees from all the cities in the mountains that we'd taken had fled too.

The fortress that housed the last resistance in these high hills.

The fortress that we had to take.

The guard saluted and then pulled the tent flap back to allow me to enter. I saluted back and ducked into the tent. Alexander and his generals were staring down at a drawing on a sheep hide that was resting on a small table.

Funny thing writing. Never really understood it. In our tribe, father told son, son told his son and if anyone forgot anything, the Druids knew it all. Couldn't see the point in writing.

At my entrance, Alexander looked up from the table.

"Huh! You took your fucking time!" he said gruffly.

We'd been warned that Alexander was in a foul mood. He'd been comatose for two days after a marathon drinking session with Hephaistion.

Alexander had always liked his wine, but these heavy drinking sessions were getting more frequent and he was taking longer to recover. It worried me.

I'd always been able to keep up with Alexander when we were feasting, bit not now. No matter how much ale I drank, Alexander drank even more. Hephaistion drank even more than Alexander. Hephaistion knew more drinking games than any man alive.

It wasn't good.

Alexander and Hephaistion were always inseperable, but these days the heavy drinking together bound them even tighter.

I remembered when we first started fighting our way through these mountains, just before we took the Sogdian Rock. Hephaistion and his team went out on a scouting patrol and never returned. Alexander was beside himself with grief at the prospect of Hepaistion's death.

I've never seen Alexander look so alone, so vulnerable.

It was a good thing that Roxanna had come along at that time. She lifted his sprits, gave him the love he craved, and a reason to carry on.

Still distraught, Alexander had sent me out to find the body of his beloved Hephaistion. I found it alright. In the arms of a pretty little catamite in a Zoastrian monastery, perched high on a wind swept pass. Oh and pissed out of his skull.

Alexander was embarrassingly grateful to me for bringing his favourite back to him. He owed me.

"So what fucking kept you," Alexander asked sourly, the sound of his own voice causing him to wince. He was still hung over.

"Probably couldn't tear himself away from Princess Anahita," interjected Hephaistion. Turning to me, he continued with a mocking tome in his voice, "I have no idea what her Highness sees in a dim-witted barbarian like you."

The insult hung heavy in the still air inside the tent. You could hear a pin drop. I sensed the tension amongst the generals, Persians mainly. They expected me to react. Alexander shot an angry glance at Hephaistion.

I shrugged my shoulders. "Dunno," I said flatly, "Probably my big knob."

Alexander burst out laughing and slapped the table. "Slioch," he said, "Glad you're back. Your fucking jokes are worth all the treasure in Persopolis!"

I grinned and shrugged my shoulders again. I had no idea what he was talking about, as I hadn't been joking.

Alexander drew himself up and waived his hand at the drawing.

"Gentlemen," he announced the fortress of Aornos has resisted us for long enough. "It will now fall."

The Generals murmured amongst themselves. Their losses had been heavy since the siege had started and Aornos still looked impregnable.

Alexander held up his hand for silence. "My generals," he said, with unshakeable resolve in his voice, "It will fall for we now have Icarus back."

He pointed at me and all eyes in the room turned in my direction.

"Slioch," Alexander called to me. "You've seen the fortress."

"Yes, my liege," I responded.

"Can you take it?"

I drew myself up to my full height. "You want it taken my liege. It will be done."

Alexander angrily spun round to his generals and pointed at me.

"I've taken the Persian empire with my Greek hoplites. If I had an army of Britons like Slioch, I'd have conquered the whole world by now." His anger was barely controlled.

"Get your men ready for when our Icarus gets up onto that plateaux," he spat angrily at his generals, his frustration obvious.

After what seemed endless discussions around the drawing of the fortress, and its defences, Alexander's meeting with his generals ended. We were dismissed.

Hector and I hurried away from Alexander's tent.

I looked around eagerly to make sure that we could not be overheard. I leant across to be closer to Hector.

"Who the fuck is Icarus?" I asked in a low voice. "Is he that big tall Persian cunt at the back?"

Hector rolled his eyes heavenwards.

"You were taught by Aristotle weren't you?" he asked incredulously. "He must have told you the all the great stories of the heroes and gods? The one about Icarus?"

"He might have done," I replied defensively. I didn't want to appear to be a dimwit in front of Hector. I'd gotten to like and respect him on our trek through these mountains, even though he was a Companion.

"Icarus," I pondered, thoughtfully stroking my chin. "Icarus," I repeated. I was hoping that if I said the name often enough it might trigger a memory or it might prompt Hector to help me out.

He didn't show any signs of taking the hint. I furrowed my brow with the effort. Then my face brightened as a thought occurred to me.

"Was there any killing in the one with Icarus?"

Hector shook his head.

"Pillaging?" I asked hopefully.

Hector shook his head.

"Rape?" I enquired hopefully.

Hector shook his head.

I shrugged my shoulders, defeated. "I only listened to the ones with those in them. If it had any poetry in it I didn't bother listening."

A huge sigh came from Hector and he shook his head vigorously. "You studied under the greatest living teacher…."

"Who was a fat little shit and who made most of it up," I interrupted.

"Did you learn nothing from that Titan amongst intellects," asked Hector disgustedly.

"Of course I did," I retorted indignantly, "I'm not stupid you know. I learnt that I hate fucking poetry."

Hector laughed and shook his head in despair.

Hector and I were walking down a small valley off to the side of the main valley. It was early in the morning. The strong Spring sun was already climbing into the clear blue sky and was burning off the thin mist.

Alexander had sent us and other parties out to scout the rock face for a way up to the plateaux.

We were walking down a thin narrow stony track that was winding its way through a grove of trees, next to a babbling brook. We emerged from the trees into a small pasture. A few meagre sheep were grazing amongst on the stone covered grass.

A woman's scream pierced the still of the early morning.

My sword was already out of its scabbard before Hector even reacted. I'd have to make a warrior of him if he was ever to seen Athens ever again.

A scream pierced the clear air again, this time more intense and urgent.

It came from behind a bend in the track on the other side of the pasture. We moved carefully across the pasture and around the bend in the road.

As we came around the corner, we were confronted by a group of men gathered outside a small stone hut that stood close by the rough track.

Two men were to our left, each holding the arm of a middle-aged man. He was dressed in rough clothes – a shepherd I guessed.

He was struggling against his restraints, his chest heaving with the effort. His face was bruised and bleeding, his left eye already closing from the swelling.

To our right, a large bear-like man had a young woman in his arms. She too was struggling. Her lip was bleeding and her tunic was torn – I could glimpse pale young flesh through the ripped fabric. Daughter to the old man I reckoned. Pretty too, and feisty – her spirit showed even though she was hurting.

The bear man was dressed in coarse furs and sheepskins. The three men behind him were similarly dressed. Mountain men. Bandits, most likely.

The young woman looked at me with pleading eyes through her long tousled hair.

The bear man glanced down at her and then looked at me.

He grunted.

"Nothing here for you, Greek. Move on."

The menace in his voice was obvious.

I should have just carried on walking, but Angra Mainyu whispered in my ear. He wanted more guests at his feasting table in the Underworld.

I mulled it over, but Angra Mainyu was insistent.

I spat my father's first spit, the one from deep within my throat.

"Hmmm" the bear man snorted. He understood my rejection of his challenge.

"Walk on, Greek!" he laughed. "There are six of us and two of you. Not good odds."

I took my helmet off and wiped my sweat filled hair from my forehead. I raised my head to look up at the sun.

"You're right," I said.

I could feel the tension in the group start to ease.

"It's still early. How long will it take you to get some more sheep-shaggers? Another 10 or 20 should even it up enough."

I moved to my right, sheathed my sword and leant back against a tree.

Years of war had me ready for a fight. It was second nature. In the blink of an eye, I had checked the position of all the fighters. I had moved away to where Hector could cover my left flank and I could tackle the bear man and the three behind couldn't get at me until I had downed the bear man. That would buy me some time before they reached me.

The bear man was right handed. I guessed he'd throw the woman to his left so he could get at his sword. It was hanging down his left thigh. He'd expect me attack that side too, as I'd had my sword in my left hand.

All this flashed through my mind in an instant. Years on incessant fighting had made me read these things with lightening speed. You had to if you wanted to stay alive.

I saw the bear man's fingers twitch.

Before he'd even released the woman, my right hand was on the sword handle. The woman hit the floor pretty much as my sword slashed across his neck from the right hand side. I'd gone for a head-shot because I didn't need to delay pulling my sword from his thick furs and rotund body. I'd seen too many good men get struck down as they struggled to get their swords out of the grip of the flesh of their opponents.

I didn't want to give the three behind him any more advantage than they already had.

The bear man sank to the ground, blood spurting from his severed neck and a look of stunned surprise in his already dimming eyes.

I span around quickly, not wanting my sword to be dragged down by his bulk. As I came around full circle, my sword hissed through the air and slammed into the neck of the bandit on the end of the line.

He crashed into his two companions and knocked them off balance. It bought me enough time to jump to my right. I was behind them now and raked my sword down the back of the nearest bandit. He screamed and fell to the ground.

His companion turned to face me, fear in his eyes. He thrust his sword at me. I parried it easily and slammed my shoulder into his chest. He tumbled over backwards.

As he lay sprawled in the dirt, I skewered him through the chest. Blood gushed out like a fountain, staining the beige dust of the track to a deep crimson.

The sound of a clash of steel made me look up quickly. Hector and a bandit were crossing swords.

The old man was hanging onto the last bandit's arms, trying to delay him joining the attack on Hector.

I yelled and launched myself in his direction. With the old man hanging onto his arm, he was unable to defend himself. A slash of my sword across his chest felled him and he crumpled to the floor with a howl of pain.

I spun to face Hector's fight. He was grunting with the effort of repelling the bandit's attack. Not stopping in my rampage, I ran the bandit through his back, my sword point bursting through his rib cage.

He groaned in pain and dropped his sword. I placed my foot on his back and pushed him off my sword. He fell face down onto the stony ground.

It all happened so fast, but to me time seemed to stand still in a fight.

I glanced quickly back at the havoc wrecked by my sword. One or two of the downed warriors were twitching in their death throes, but none of them were going to get up.

I was perspiring. I was panting. My throat was dry.

Angra Mainyu was happy. Six more souls for his feasting table. He had blessed my sword again this day.

I grinned at Hector. He looked shocked at the ferocity of the fight. I could see he was trembling slightly. He had never got used to the insanity that takes you over in a fight. He was too highly born, but I liked him, even if he was a Companion.

Later, we sat drinking green tea laced with cinnamon. It was my favourite drink in these hills. When I went home, back to the Valley of the Stone Axes, I was going to take some with me. It beat goats' milk.

Nadereh, the young woman bent forward, smiled at me and offered me a piece of Baklawa. It was a rich, delicate sweetmeat and I loved it.

I smiled back and took a piece. I ate it hungrily.

Pirooz, her father, was sitting next to me and took a piece of Baklawa too. He ate it slowly and then raised his cup of steaming green tea to me.

He grinned, the gaps in his teeth winking at me.

"I'd heard that the barbarian Greeks were people with no honour. But I see that is not so." he said in heavily accented Persian. I saw Hector wince at his poor pronunciation.

I shrugged my shoulders. "I'm not fucking Greek."

Piooz laughed and slapped his thigh.

"I can tell that. You are a man of the mountains." He paused. "One of us."

There was an awkward silence.

"We were indeed fortunate that you happened along when those scum came here. The valleys are plagued with bandits since the Great King Darius fell and the barbarian Greeks came." Another pause. He cleared his throat.

"How can I repay you?" He shot a nervous glance at his daughter.

It was my turn to pause. I took a sip of the perfumed tea.

"My lord Iskandar has sent me to find a route up to the plateaux above. You live here. You know these hills. Is there such a route?"

The old man stroked his beard, clearly thinking. He tapped his nose.

"I can help you, but I have a further task for you," he replied hesitantly.

I took another sup of tea and gave him an enquiring look.

"I am a Black Pagan of the Hindu Kush," he announced proudly.

"This fight between the barbarian Greeks and the Sogdians and Bactrians is none of my concern," he announced with a shrug.

"But," and he wagged his finger at me, "My son, Firouz, is trapped in Aornos. He went up there to trade sheep when you barbarian Greeks turned up."

He paused again before pointing at me.

"I want you to get him out when the two horned one springs his trap."

I'd heard of these Black Pagans. They were people of the remote valleys and passes of these mountains. An ancient people who had walked these hills since the time of the Ancients. If anyone knew a secret route, they would.

I gulped more tea down and nodded my agreement.

Nadereh came back into the room and went to her father's side with fresh tea in an urn. She bent down next to him, whispered in his ear and quickly walked out of the room, glancing over her shoulder at me as she made her exit.

Piooz gave a grim grin and looked after her.

"She gives you thanks for saving her life." He sighed.

"She says to show her gratitude she will go with you as your woman." He paused and grimaced. "If you wish."

There was sadness in his voice.

I stopped and looked back down the track at the long line of soldiers climbing up the mountain track. We'd been walking since dawn.

We'd climb a steep ravine, then down the other side, only to be faced by another ravine, higher up the mountain slope. Each ravine took us closer and closer to the summit ridge high above us.

The last of the winter snow still lingered in some of the ravines and along the ridge. The valley floor looked very distant, the small pastures difficult to pick out. The air was thin up here.

We were high up on the mountain.

It was gruelling and painfully slow progress. Only a Black Pagan of the Hindu Kush would have known of such a secret path.

Ptolemy came up beside me and bent over, his face flushed, his chest heaving with the effort of climbing the mountain.

"Fuck me, Slioch!" he puffed. "Where are you taking me? Ammon's front gate?"

I smiled. These lowland folk were all the same. A little hill and all they did was moan.

I patted him on the back. "Not far to go now. Nearly at the top."

He convulsed before retorting, "Alexander said you'd fucking say that!"

I'd lied.

We were nowhere near the top.

We climbed upward and onward, ravine after ravine blocking our way.

As the sun was starting to drop lower in the sky, we emerged from the pine trees, just as Hector and I had the day before. We stood on an open ledge, the fortress of Aornos below us.

Alexander could build his siege engines up here, plenty of timber for those carpenters I'd dragged all the way from Bactra to work with. Aornos' defences would get pounded from up here.

The only problem was that there was a huge wide, deep ravine between us and the fortress of Aornos. I had no idea how we were ever going to cross it and take the fortress. It might be the one citadel in these mountains that would successfully resist Alexander. The rebellion might yet be kept alive, and we might not be able to move east to some place called India.

And I had even less idea how I was going to find Firouz, never mind get him out of Aornos.


End file.
